


i will protect you

by willowsick



Series: the rust on our hands (sbi rust universe) [1]
Category: Rust (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angry TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Claustrophobia, Family Dynamics, Feral TommyInnit (Video Blogging RFP), Good Friend Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Gun Violence, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt Wilbur Soot, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Protective Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot-centric, found family tho, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28795581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowsick/pseuds/willowsick
Summary: He watched as Tommy’s gaze flickered to the revolver on his hip, along with the key clutched tightly in his hand. “Wilbur..?” He asked slowly, approaching the door. Wilbur took another step back and couldn’t hide the fear that flashed across his expression. His stomach twisted, and he couldn’t tell if it was from panic or the nauseating radiation poisoning in his system. He wouldn’t let Tommy come with him. Hewouldn’tlet him get hurt again.-*TITLE CHANGE* used to be "the rust on our hands" which is now the name of this series!!
Relationships: Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: the rust on our hands (sbi rust universe) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113632
Comments: 37
Kudos: 482





	i will protect you

**Author's Note:**

> series title inspired by tam @tamatojam on twitter

The wind whistles through dark autumn leaves, knocking them loose from branches and carrying them to the forest floor below. The crunching sounds of footsteps on the fallen leaves echoed among the trees as two boys picked their way through the shrubbery. 

“Are we nearly there yet, Wilbur?” the younger whined, kicking the leaves beneath his feet. Wilbur responded with a heavy, annoyed sigh, despite the evident curve of his lips. “How many times are you going to ask that? We make this trip nearly every day and I’d think you’d have learned the way by now.” He paused, a grin spreading across his face. “Then again, you are still a child.” He couldn’t help but snicker at his friend’s dismayed squawk. “I’ll have you know, I’m the biggest man you will ever meet.” The boy said indignantly, squaring his shoulders and sticking his chin forward. Wilbur scoffed at how ridiculous he looked, but humored him anyway. “Mhm. Of course you are, Tommy.” Wilbur muttered under his breath as he ducked under another low branch, emerging from the tree line.

The boys stopped suddenly, staring up at the massive structure in front of them. It may have been riddled with radiation, but The Dome had supplied them with everything they’d needed to survive for a year now. In a strange way, they felt indebted to the thing. It had saved their lives when they first arrived here, stumbling through the forest with no food or resources. Wilbur had hushed Tommy’s cries of hunger and ushered him to climb a nearby tree, ordering him to stay hidden among the leaves until he returned. The Dome had food, water, a bed, a single rusty revolver, even metal scraps they could use to craft bullets. It gave them everything they needed to make it through another night.

Even if that night, after building a shelter and making sure Tommy was resting in bed, Wilbur was riddled with sickness. He pulled a small pill bottle out of his jacket pocket he had found abandoned in a barrel outside the structure. Radiation pills. Wilbur took it as a sign.

Ever since that day, Wilbur had set out every morning at dawn. Popping a few radiation pills in his mouth before he entered the structure and looting it for all it’s worth. It had saved them that first day, and it had kept them alive ever since. Even if now his hands and body were riddled with scars of radiation burns. Even if he could no longer play the guitar, because the shake in his hands had grown too unsteady.

Eventually, Wilbur had found a radiation suit, and only after he had assured himself that it was functional, did he finally bring Tommy along with him during his morning voyages. At first, Tommy had questioned why Wilbur would give him the radiation suit, rather than wear it himself. Wilbur had insisted he was fine with just the radiation pills and his tattered clothing, claiming he felt better bringing Tommy with him, rather than leaving him unarmed and unprotected at the house. After a while Tommy stopped asking questions. Besides, eventually they had found a second suit. Though, they both knew the weeks of exposure to radiation with nothing but a handful of expired pills and the clothes he had come in had already begun to take its toll on Wilbur.

Now, the duo found themselves staring up at the miraculous structure once again. Tommy emerged from the tree line behind Wilbur, standing by his side. “Alright, rad suits on.” Wilbur ushered Tommy to put his on. “I know, I know. You don’t have to tell me every time. I’m not a baby.” Tommy muttered, swiping at Wilbur’s outstretched hands. “Oh yeah? Then why do you act like one?” Wilbur teased, stepping into his own suit. He zipped his closed before turning to Tommy, who was fastening his helmet in place. Wilbur stepped over, inspecting Tommy’s suit to assure himself it was properly worn and that there were no rips or tears. “Oi! I know what I’m doing, put your damn helmet on.” Tommy fussed, pointing to Wilbur’s unprotected face. “Alright, alright. I was just checking.” Wilbur replied, pulling his own helmet on. If he was being completely honest, Wilbur was still terrified bringing Tommy to this place. Even after all this time, his heart still skipped at the idea of Tommy going through the same painful experience of radiation poisoning that he had suffered. Maybe all the times of pretending to be brothers for pity points was getting to his head. He shook his head to rid himself of the anxiety coursing through him, now was not the time to contemplate his relation to the younger boy. All that mattered right now is that he was sure it was safe for Tommy to go in there and help him get the things they needed.

It didn’t take very long for Wilbur to regret his decision to let Tommy tag along.

Everything was fine as they jumped and climbed the ruins of the structure, Wilbur leading the way and hovering to catch Tommy if need be at every jump. However, the second they entered the doorway into the Dome itself, Tommy was snatched away from his side with a yelp. Wilbur instinctively turned, gun drawn, only to receive a kick to the back of his knee from behind. He shouted in pain as his knees hit the harsh metal floor, panic rising when his hands were secured behind his back and his gun was quickly kicked away. The feeling of a cold barrel pressed against his skull, and he froze instantly, looking to Tommy across from him.

He was in a similar situation, just slightly worse, which made his stomach knot with dread. Tommy was pressed onto his stomach, arms twisted painfully behind him as an older man held him down roughly. Tommy growled—Wilbur was shocked at how animalistic he sounded, as he thrashed his shoulders violently to try and get the person off of him. His resistance was met with the butt of the man’s gun being slammed into the back of his head, and Wilbur couldn’t help the surge of protectiveness that flooded him as Tommy groaned in pain. “Hey! Get the fuck off of him!” Wilbur shouted, momentarily forgetting the weapon pointed at his own head. “Shut up.” The man spoke, turning to him with a glare.

“Let’s just get this over with man, we don’t have to hurt them any more than they need to be.” The man behind Wilbur spoke, and he was shocked at the hesitation in his tone. At that the other man scoffed, but he stood from where his knee had been pressed firmly into Tommy’s back. As he stood though, he raised his gun to the boy still recovering on the floor, and Wilbur couldn’t control his jerk against his restraints at the sight. The man turned to him, almost daring him to move. Wilbur just narrowed his eyes as he glared back at him. Wilbur noticed, with a tightening of the knot in his stomach, that Tommy’s hands had also been restrained by a thick rope.

“Now, we’re gonna do this as quickly and painlessly as possible.” The man behind Wilbur spoke as he circled around to be in front of him, his gun still trained on his head. “You’re going to give us all your shit, and then we’ll be on our way.” He spoke casually, like this was just a normal occurrence. Given the look of the two in front of him, Wilbur supposed it probably was. 

“Like hell we are!” Tommy spat out from where he was slowly getting to his knees on the ground. Wilbur was surprised he was even conscious with the likely concussion he had. His remark, however, earned him a rough kick to the stomach. 

“Hey!” Wilbur shouted as Tommy doubled over in pain. He struggled against the rope that was restraining his hands once again as Tommy struggled to pull in air, but froze suddenly when the other man yanked Tommy upright, hand gripping the edge of Tommy's helmet. “If he doesn’t shut his goddamn mouth and if you don’t give us your shit right now, I’ll rip his fucking helmet off.” He threatened. Wilbur’s heart dropped to his stomach, heavy as lead. “You wouldn’t.” Wilbur whispered, shocked that the man before him was threatening the life of a teenage boy. “Oh yeah? You wanna bet on that?” He responded darkly, already starting to unfasten the boy’s helmet. Panic surged through Wilbur as he shouted, “Stop! Stop, okay? I’ll give you everything, alright? I’ll give you everything.” The attacker halted at that, then nodded to the man that had been behind Wilbur.

He disappeared back behind Wilbur and suddenly the rope fell away from his hands, but the barrel of the gun pressed harder into his own helmet and the other man pushed his weapon against Tommy’s head. “No funny business.” Said the man holding the gun to Wilbur’s head. Wilbur just nodded as he began very slowly emptying his pockets and bag, dropping all his metal scraps and food and any valuables onto the floor. He looked back up to the attacker above Tommy, a silent question in his gaze. _Is that enough? Is that what you wanted?_

“Him next,” the man said, gesturing with his gun from Wilbur to Tommy. “I’m not taking anything myself, I wouldn’t be surprised if the little shit tried to bite me.” He explained. “I fucking would, too.” Tommy muttered bitterly from below them.

The attacker made a move towards him but Wilbur stepped in front of Tommy protectively. He glared daggers at the man, speaking calmly, but deadly. “Don’t fucking touch him.” When he was certain he wasn’t going to approach further, Wilbur turned to Tommy and kneeled before him. He gave the boy an apologetic glance before letting out a shaky breath and searched Tommy for items. He emptied everything onto the floor with his own belongings and then stood up. He hesitated before backing away from Tommy, and the moment he did his hands were once again restrained behind his back as he was forced to his knees. Panic rose again as the attacker held him from behind. 

He thought he did what they wanted. He thought it was over. 

His eyes widened as he watched the other man grasp the top of Tommy’s helmet once more, heart stopping. He then ripped off Tommy’s helmet despite Wilbur’s cooperation.

“No!” Wilbur screamed, but it was too late. The heavy radiation in The Dome would already begin taking its effects. He tugged against his restraints harshly, feeling the rope cutting into his skin but he didn’t care.

He had to get to Tommy.

“Maybe this’ll teach him a lesson.” Spat the man. He gasped as he reeled a fist back and brought it down to meet Tommy’s cheek. Wilbur fought against the arms holding him as the man brought his fist down again, and again, and again. “Stop! Stop it! Leave him the fuck alone!” Wilbur screamed, voice hoarse. He kept screaming and thrashing until the man eventually stopped, leaving the younger boy a bloody mess on the floor. Wilbur seethed as he brought his gaze up to burn into the man, jerking again against his attacker’s hold. “You’re fucking dead. You hear me? You’re dead!” He shouted, and then he was abruptly thrown to the floor.

The two men gathered up all the belongings scattered across the floor and ran. He took note of the patch on their radiation suits, a symbol. One he had seen graffitied on the remains of the trainyard. They jumped in a military-style jeep—one similarly graffitied with that symbol, before peeling off down the road. Wilbur got to his knees, panic rising as he still couldn’t move his hands to help Tommy. He reached towards his boots, pulling out a knife he couldn’t have revealed earlier without getting a bullet in the head.

He quickly situated it between his wrists and began sawing at the rope. The second he was free his hands flew to his own helmet, hastily unfastening it and tearing it off. He placed it on Tommy’s head instead, his own helmet cracked and discarded on the floor. He didn’t care about his own safety at that moment, Tommy had been without a helmet and beaten for at least a few minutes, he wasn’t going to let him be exposed any longer than he had to. He then brought his knife down to cut the ropes restraining the boy. As soon as they fell loose he gently pulled Tommy off the ground, wincing when the boy let out a pained groan. “We’re going home now, okay? I’m gonna get you home. We’re gonna be okay.” He spoke gentle reassurances to the boy that might not even be hearing him. As they exited the monument with a majority of their belongings gone and one injured while they were both riddled with radiation, Wilbur prayed he was right.

-o-

When their house came into view over the edge of the hill, Wilbur picked up his pace. He half dragged, half carried Tommy as he shuffled through the forest. When he finally reached the door he gently leaned Tommy against the wall, watching from his peripheral as he was barely able to hold himself up. Wilbur fumbled for the house key, thanking the gods he didn’t accidentally throw it out with all his other valuables. 

He quickly unlocked the door, threw Tommy’s arm back over his shoulder, and carried the boy inside. He carefully brought the two of them up the stairs, sitting Tommy down on his bed. “I’m gonna need you to take your rad suit off now, okay?” Wilbur spoke to the boy gently, and waited for him to nod before turning and taking off his own. The second he kicked off the suit he rushed over to his duffle bag, searching through it for what he needed. He found the bottle of radiation pills at the bottom, and pulled them out before popping off the cap. His heart plummeted when he saw there were only enough pills for one person inside. 

Wilbur glanced over to the other boy, who was struggling to get off the suit tangled around his feet. He let out a breath and closed his eyes for a moment, resolutely preparing himself for a night of unmedicated radiation sickness. 

He turned back to Tommy with the pills in hand, grabbing a bottle of water from his duffle bag. “Here, take these.” He pressed the water bottle into one of the boy’s hands and dropped the pills in his other. He moved down to help tug the radiation suit off from where it’d gotten tangled on his feet. When he glanced back up Tommy had taken the pills, bringing his hand up to hold his head. He must have a splitting headache from how hard he’d been hit. “Ah ah, don’t touch.” He scolded halfheartedly. Wilbur lifted his own hands to run through Tommy’s scalp, assessing the damage. Tommy flinched with a wince when his hand found the large, bleeding lump on the back of his head. 

“Sorry,” Wilbur muttered, reaching back into his bag for some bandages. He carefully wrapped the bandage around Tommy’s head, hoping it’d be enough to stop the bleeding. He then took Tommy’s chin and lifted his head up, gently turning his face from one side to another. He didn’t look too bad, a couple scrapes and bruises, and his nose didn’t look broken which was a good sign. He sighed as he pulled away from the younger boy, retreating downstairs to the sink to dampen a piece of cloth. 

When he returned, he was surprised to see his friend on the verge of tears. He kneeled down in front of him, bringing the cloth to clean the cuts on his face. “Want to tell me what’s up with you?” He asked, making sure there wasn’t a hint of annoyance in his tone. Tommy rarely confided in others about how he was feeling, not wanting to be a burden. Wilbur knew this, of course, and made sure to listen intently whenever the boy did decide to open up. 

“It’s my fault.” Tommy sniffled, and Wilbur’s movement paused for a moment. He blinked before continuing his work. “Of course it’s not, what makes you think that?” Wilbur questioned. 

“If I had shut my mouth maybe you could have talked our way out of there.” He muttered. “Maybe if I had been strong enough…” he added under his breath, a darkness in his tone that made Wilbur’s heart clench. 

“Stop it. Don’t do that to yourself. You don’t know that I could have gotten us out, you saw them. They were armed to the teeth and caught us by surprise.” As Wilbur spoke he finished cleaning out the cuts, throwing the bloody cloth to the side and reaching into his bag for a handful of butterfly bandages. 

Tommy scoffed, holding his head still as Wilbur placed the little bandages on his multiple cuts. “You can talk your way out of anything. Besides, if I hadn’t gotten hurt maybe you could have figured something out.” It was spoken so matter-of-factly that Wilbur almost missed the implications of that last part. He tensed suddenly, but continued working on Tommy’s face. “What is that supposed to mean?” He asked, almost hesitantly. 

“Well you can’t seem to stand seeing me hurt. So maybe, if I hadn’t gotten myself in trouble, you could have thought rationally and talked them out of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could have convinced them to drop their own shit, with that silver tongue of yours.” 

Wilbur felt his cheeks warm slightly when he didn’t respond and—to his mortification, Tommy seemed to notice too. “What? It’s true! Awe, are you embarrassed that I know you care about me?” He teased, and Wilbur gave him an innocent flick on the ear as he stood up. “Alright, alright. That’s enough out of you, brat.” He retorted, though not unkindly. Tommy didn’t even try to hide the shit-eating grin on his face, but stopped in his teasing anyway. Wilbur was relieved that the boy had quickly returned to his banter. He feared he may have been a bit too shaken by the events that took place in The Dome. At least now he knew he was genuinely okay. The vice grip of anxiety on his heart eased slightly at the realization. 

However, any levity in the air dispersed when he took stock of what items they had left. It wasn’t much, not enough to last them another week, and with their guns and scrap stolen, they were practically defenseless. How the hell were they going to get to The Dome now, with no weapons to protect themselves? They had been ambushed today, who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again? Though next time, they wouldn’t have anything of value to spare their lives. _There’s only one option. You have to get your shit back._ His gaze darkened at the thought. 

It was true. There’s no way they’d make it to The Dome for supplies without their weapons, and he wasn’t going to let what happened that morning happen ever again. Not a chance. 

So, he decided. Once he was sure Tommy had been properly cared for and the radiation pills he took were working, he salvaged whatever scraps they had hidden away in their chests and made themselves dinner. He waited until nightfall, when Tommy had fallen asleep in his own bed to rifle through his bag, stealing the boy’s house key. He spared a glance at Tommy’s sleeping form, guilt for what he was about to do tearing him up from the inside. 

He had to do this. For Tommy. 

He quietly made his way down the stairs, taking the old dingy revolver that he wasn’t even sure worked anymore from the box below the staircase. It was as he was stepping out the door that he heard something that made his entire body freeze. 

“Wil?” A sleepy Tommy questioned from the top of the stairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Where are you going?” The boy asked, clumsily descending the stairs. “Nothing to worry about, Tommy. I’m just going out for some things. Go back to sleep.” Wilbur replied, heart pounding in his chest but trying to keep a calm demeanor. 

If he panicked Tommy would know something was wrong, and he’d try to stop him. 

He watched as Tommy’s gaze flickered to the revolver on his hip, along with the key clutched tightly in his hand. “Wilbur..?” He asked slowly, approaching the door. Wilbur took another step back and couldn’t hide the fear that flashed across his expression. His stomach twisted, and he couldn’t tell if it was from panic or the nauseating radiation poisoning in his system. He wouldn’t let Tommy come with him. He _wouldn’t_ let him get hurt again. 

Wilbur could see the exact moment Tommy’s sleep-ridden brain put the pieces together, quickening his pace and running at the door. Wilbur didn’t hesitate to turn and slam the door shut, jamming the key in the lock and turning. 

-o-

“Wilbur, wait!” Tommy’s cry screeched through the night air as he pressed himself firmly against the barred window. His thin arms reached through the gaps between the iron bars. He was so close to the outside, he could feel the droplets of rain splattering against his scarred hands. 

When his friend continued to ignore his desperate cries he withdrew himself from the window, even if removing himself from his one possible escape made his heart leap into his throat. 

Tommy ran back to the front door muttering curses under his breath, twisting and yanking on the handle to no avail, Wilbur had locked it the second he slammed the door on Tommy’s face. Returning to the window, he tried screaming for the older man again. “Wilbur, please! You don’t have to do this!” Tears were streaming down the young boy’s face as he fought back the sobs working their way up his throat that threatened to choke him. Wilbur halted this time, turning to face the crying boy.

He had a brave face on. Wearing a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and contrasted the obvious shake to his trembling hands. He looked mostly calm, and Tommy didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. He slowly made his way back to the window, speaking softly as he did. “You know I do, Tommy. I wouldn’t have locked you in there if I didn’t.” His pained face confirmed he was telling the truth, guilt painted his expression. Tommy bit back the almost animalistic growl that rumbled in the back of his throat. He didn’t care. Wilbur was leaving him. He was going to be completely fucking alone in this godforsaken world, and Wilbur didn’t _care_. He focused on his anger, focused on hurling his spiteful words to the older man because it distracted him from the sinking feeling of being trapped inside the house.

He was stuck he was trapped the walls were closing in he was going to die here, oh fuck, oh _fuck_.

He gripped the irons bars with white-knuckled fists and shook them violently. They didn’t budge. “You’re leaving me! If you do this, you’re leaving me to fucking die! Do you want that? Do you want me to fucking die?!” Tommy screamed, spittle flying from his mouth as he barked out his anger. Wilbur looked unphased, tilting his head as he reached out and grabbed Tommy’s extended hand gently, a sad smile on his face.

“You won’t die, Tommy. I promise you, you’re going to be okay. I just really need to do this, okay?” He spoke slowly and simply, as if he was just a child throwing a temper tantrum. It only served to fuel the fire in Tommy’s gut, burning him from the inside out. “You don’t!” He screamed again, desperation clawing at his insides as a feeling of helplessness crashed over him. He brought his fearful gaze to meet his friend’s eyes in a final plea. “Please don’t leave me…” Tommy whispered brokenly. Wilbur just brought his other hand up to cup his cheek, and despite the anger coursing through his veins, he couldn’t help but lean into the comforting touch. “I’ll be back by dawn.” At that Tommy’s desperate pleas picked up once more, only to be gently hushed by Wilbur. “Can’t you see I’m doing this for you?” Wilbur’s voice broke, betraying his brave act. Tommy’s breath hitched in his throat and he was left in a stunned silence. With that Wilbur turned and Tommy could only stare in heartbreak as he disappeared into the tree line.

Tommy knew he wouldn’t be coming back. Apparently, Wilbur knew it too, stealing Tommy’s key and locking him in the house so as to not be followed. He’d be shot dead before he even made it to their attackers’ doorstep.

So, Tommy backed away from the window, panic consuming him, eating him from the inside out. His breath picked up as he saw the shadows dance in the corner of his vision. Was it just him or were the walls closing in on him? He was alone and trapped and hurt and the only person who cared about him had abandoned him to enter a fight he wouldn’t return from, and it was all Tommy’s fault. When his breath began hitching on every intake and his head began to spin, his hands flew out in front of him to ground himself. In doing so, his hand hit something. He didn’t even realize he was curled up on the workroom floor. He blinked the tears out of his eyes as he brought the object towards him, and his heart ached painfully when he realized what it was.

His guitar. His guitar that had been gifted to him by Wilbur, who he was likely never going to see again.

Hesitantly, Tommy brought the guitar into his lap. He slowly brought his trembling hands to meet the strings and began to play. He started to play the newest song he’d learned, the one Wilbur was teaching him. As the music filled the dark room his breathing began to slow, and the walls he had sworn were moving closer had returned to their original places. He let out a heavy sigh as he let the music distract him from the horrors that were likely happening in the forest. Tommy filled the empty house with music throughout the night, waiting for the one who he thought of as his brother, who was likely to not return.

-o-

Wilbur peeked from behind a tree, only to retreat back when the sweeping of a flashlight shone in his direction. He waited with bated breath, revolver clutched tightly to his chest with shaking hands, for the light to pass. The second it did he emerged from the tree line, sprinting for the cover of the cargo boxes littered around the trainyard. Wilbur noted that there was one guy keeping watch, patrolling the outskirts of their territory. He had no clue how many of them would be inside the actual building, and he wasn’t excited to find out. He made his way to the end of the freight line and crouched, scanning the area for his next spot. 

He saw a gap in the chain link fence, likely cut and tore open ages ago. It was just big enough for a person to fit through. _Bingo_ , He thought. He waited for the next sweep of the flashlight, and when the man turned his back he made a run for the fence. As soon as he reached it he slung off his backpack, throwing it through the gap. He quickly crawled through, picking up his bag and running to press himself against a nearby wall. He took a moment to catch his breath, nausea and dizziness from the radiation making his stomach twist painfully and head spin. He brought the revolver closer to himself as he checked the ammunition. Three bullets. He had only three bullets, and he hoped desperately that he wouldn’t have to use them. 

He let out a shaky breath, then turned back to the mission at hand. It only seemed reasonable that they would keep his things inside the building. He could see the warm light and smoke of a campfire in the yard next to the building. He could hear the drunken singing and exaggerated stories of the men from here. If he wanted to get back his shit, he’d have to do it before the men retired for the night. So, he shuffled closer, back still pressed firmly against the wall as he used the shadows to conceal himself. His gaze found a window, and he paused for a moment, searching for any movement coming from inside. When he was sure there was none and that all the men were celebrating outside, he ran for the window. 

He wasted no time throwing himself over the ledge, landing with a soft clunk of his boots inside the rotting building. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, rust mixed with rot, along with the strong stench of alcohol. He stood slowly, keeping himself low. He made his way to the doorway, revolver held by his side and ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice. He could hear the ramblings of the men closer from here, as they were just outside the door at the end of the small hallway. He chanced a glance around the corner, relieved to see the door was nearly closed, only open a sliver. They wouldn’t see him from in here. Still, he kept himself low as he quietly entered the hallway.

He peeked his head into every room, heart sinking a bit more each time they were empty. He figured the group of men must have just moved into the trainyard, it explained why they had robbed the closest people they could find. Any thought he had however, was wiped from his mind as he turned into the final room. There was little furniture in the room, other than a table surrounded by a couple wooden chairs. On the far wall was a desk, and his heart leaped into his throat. 

There they were. His guns, his scraps, his food. His heart soared as he made his way over to them, quickly shoving everything he could get his hands on into his backpack. 

It plummeted again when he heard the slam of a door and the clumsy footsteps of a drunk man entering the building. 

-o-

The repetitive action of plucking strings and humming softly as music filled the house— _his prison_ , his brain added unhelpfully—was about the only thing keeping Tommy from the edge of panic. If he was focusing on the rhythmic strumming of his guitar, he wouldn’t think about the walls that seemed to move. If he was focusing on the hum in his throat, he wouldn’t think about Wilbur. 

So, he didn’t think. He played.

That is, until he heard footsteps followed by a familiar voice sounding from outside the house.

“Hello? Wilbur? Tommy?” It was Ranboo. Tommy thought he was going to cry in sheer joy at another person’s presence. The music halted, but was quickly replaced by Tommy returning to the window and shouting. “Ranboo! Holy fuck thank god you’re here man.” He brought his hands up to grip the irons bars of the window. Ranboo seemed to do a double take. “Tommy? What’s wrong? Where’s Wilbur?” Tommy’s head spun as he was bombarded with questions by the anxious teen. “Shut up! Just shut up, let me speak. Please.” Tommy barked out, only feeling slightly guilty when the taller boy flinched. When he made no move to continue, Tommy tried his best to explain his situation.

Tommy regaled Ranboo with all the events of that morning, the other’s eyes had widened at the news of their ambush, taking in Tommy’s battered face. He went on to explain his abrupt wakefulness in the dead of night, only to find Wilbur nearly out the door and equipped with whatever dingy “weapon” he could find. It didn’t take a genius to find out where he was going. He then told Ranboo of Wilbur slamming the door in his face and locking him in the house, abandoning him. 

Ranboo looked taken aback at that turn of the story. “Why would he do that? He’d never want to hurt you.” The anger swelled once more in Tommy’s belly at the agreement of another person. “Yeah, I know! But that’s exactly why he did it. Where he’s going, he’s likely not making it back. That’s why I _need_ to find him, Ranboo. I can help.” Tommy explained, white-knuckled grip on the bars keeping him trapped inside. He saw Ranboo considering something, so he pressed further. “Please, Ranboo. Get me out of here.” He pleaded. His heart soared when Ranboo let out a sigh, but raised his axe. 

Tommy backed away from the door, turning and gathering whatever materials he could find in the house. By the time he was ready and turned back, Ranboo had begun making work of the door. He flinched as the axe came through the splintering wood. Tommy bounced impatiently on his feet as Ranboo pulled the axe back before slamming it into the wooden door again with a grunt. He repeated the process several times until one time when he tried to yank the axe out of the wood, the whole door came with it. Ranboo nearly tripped over himself to get out of the way of the falling door, only to be tackled into a bear hug from the younger boy. 

Tommy was trembling as he gripped the back of Ranboo’s shirt. “Thank you.” He breathed out, shakily. Ranboo just returned the embrace with an awkward pat on the back. “No problem.” When Tommy collected himself enough to pull away, he fixed Ranboo with a determined glare. “Give me your gun.” Ranboo blinked at him. “What?” The taller teen questioned, and Tommy only stepped forward, looking up at him as if daring him to refuse. “I said, give me your gun. If I’m supposed to go save Wilbur’s dumb ass I’m gonna need something other than… this.” He said, raising the single rusty pipe he had clutched in his hand like a lifeline. Ranboo just sighed deeply before unholstering the pistol on his hip and handing it to the boy. 

“Fine, but you get the pistol. I get the SMG.” Tommy blinked up at him in confusion. “What? You really thought I was gonna let you run into this mess alone? Hell no. Lead the way. You could use an extra gun from the sound of it.” As Ranboo spoke he took the SMG from his back, gesturing to it with a glint in his eye that Tommy could only assume implied that he was smiling under his mask. Tommy gave him a simple, curt nod. “Thank you.” Ranboo just shrugged, “Eh, I was on my way to visit you guys anyway. If Wilbur’s got his ass into trouble, of course I’ll help you get him out if it.” At that, Tommy turned and marched off into the forest with Ranboo on his heels. 

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” Ranboo asked, doubt tinting his tone. Tommy just huffed in response. “Of course I do. Before I got the shit kicked out of me I saw the symbol on their rad suits and car. I’ve seen it at the trainyard, and knowing Wilbur, that’s exactly where he would have gone.” Ranboo seemed satisfied with that answer as they picked their way through the forest undergrowth. “So what’s the plan?” Tommy looked down at the pistol in his hand before taking out the magazine and checking how many bullets he had. 

“We save my dumbass brother and get our shit back.”

-o-

Wilbur froze as the footsteps made their way down the corridor. Fuck fuck fuck, where was he supposed to go? He realized it was too late when he heard the footsteps turn into the room, followed by a slurred question. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

Wilbur rose from the ground slowly, turning to face the man. It was the man from The Dome. The man seemed to recognize Wilbur and he could see the moment it clicked in his brain. Without another word the man brought his gun up. Wilbur’s eyes widen as he only had a moment to move before he fired. 

Wilbur kicked out, overturning the nearby table before ducking behind it, just in time for a bullet to whiz over his head. Wilbur muttered a curse under his breath as he gathered himself, taking a deep breath before popping up over the cover and returning fire. _Two bullets left_. He reminded himself. He sucked in a breath as the man’s feet emerged from the other side of the table, bringing his hands down to try and grab him. Wilbur turned, grabbing a chair and swinging it around. It crashed into the other man’s side and splintered wood rained down on the two. Wilbur took the moment of the man’s instability to kick out, sending him flying to the floor. 

He turned to the pile of his stuff, grabbing his semi-automatic pistol. He cursed as he checked the magazine, no bullets. He could hear the other man getting to his feet behind him. He searched the boxes littering the desk, nearly shouting in triumph when he found a full magazine. He slammed it into his gun just in time to duck as the man fired once more. He ran out the doorway and took cover behind the hallway wall. It was then that he realized something. 

It wasn’t exactly a secret that he was here, with the multiple gunshots from within the building. So where were the other men? That was when he heard the exchange taking place outside. 

Men were yelling and firing at…something as bullets were sprayed at them. He felt his heart turn to lead as it dropped to the pit of him stomach. Tommy was the only one who knew where he was going. He however, didn’t have time to let the panic take hold as another shot was fired at him, taking a chunk out of the wall near his head. He turned around the corner to return fire, eyes widening when other man was a lot closer than he thought he’d be. The man took the second of hesitation to grab Wilbur’s wrist, knocking the gun from his hand. 

Wilbur kicked out in retaliation, and he could hear the sick crack of bone as his boot made contact with the man’s knee. The other man cried out, dropping his own weapon to the floor. Wilbur pulled out the revolver once more, aiming it at the man’s head. Just as he pulled the trigger the man ducked, surging forward. _One bullet left_ , his thoughts supplied. The gun however, was knocked out of his hand and kicked across the room, towards the window. The man grabbed Wilbur, shoving him to the ground in front of him. The air was knocked from his lungs as Wilbur hit the solid floor, and his back arched off the floor as he tried to suck in a breath. Just as he was finally able to breathe again the other man came crashing down on top of him, reeling a fist back. Wilbur barely had time to raised his arms up to protect himself before a series of punches rained down on him. 

One punch made contact with his cheek and his head was snapped to the side. The attacks didn’t stop, and Wilbur just barely managed to sock the other man in the jaw as he pulled back for another hit. The man however, recovered quickly, grabbing Wilbur by the front of his shirt. He pulled him up before roughly slamming him back down into the concrete floor, and Wilbur’s head bounced as it hit the ground, hard. His head spun and lights danced before his eyes, and he couldn’t fight back as the man pulled him up and slammed him back down again. 

Wilbur groaned in pain, but couldn’t bring his arms up to defend himself any longer. That was, until the man’s hands found Wilbur’s neck and _squeezed_. Panic set every nerve in his body alight as he could no longer bring in air, and his hands weakly clawed at the gloved hands on his throat. He looked up into the man’s eyes and was horrified to see a sick look of _satisfaction_ in his dark gaze. 

This man was going to kill him, and he was going to enjoy it.

Darkness crept into the corners of his vision, his hands began to fall limp as the life was squeezed from him. A gunshot rang out from Wilbur’s left and the head of the man above him was snapped to the side as a bullet made contact with his skull. The hands around his throat fell away and Wilbur gasped in a beautiful breath, throat raw. He coughed and choked as he pushed the limp body off of him, turning to his side and propping himself up on one elbow, bringing his other hand to his neck. The darkness crept away and the stars faded as his vision came back to him, and he looked up to the source of the gunshot. 

Dread knotted in his stomach as he saw Tommy in front of the window, the revolver raised as he breathed heavily. He stared at the dead body in horror, hands trembling as he quickly threw the weapon to the ground. When Wilbur coughed once more, he seemed to be snapped from his trance. He rushed over to help his friend to his feet. “Wilbur! Holy fuck, h-holy shit.” His voice cracked roughly, and the second he was on his feet Wilbur pulled him into a hug. The boy returned the embrace instantly, bringing his arms to cling tightly to the back of his shirt. Sobs wracked the boy’s small frame as the full realization of what he’d just done hit him. Wilbur shushed him gently, his hold on him tightening. 

He never wanted this. He never wanted the kid to have to take another’s life.

“I-I just… I just _killed_ him.” Tommy whispered in horror, and Wilbur brought a hand up to hold the back of his head. “I know. I know, it’s okay. It’s okay. You did good, you did _so_ good. You _saved_ me.” His voice cracked on the end. Tommy trembled in Wilbur’s arms as Wilbur uttered quiet reassurances into his hair. When Tommy finally calmed down enough to pull away he roughly punched Wilbur in the arm.

“What the fuck, man! What is wrong with you?! You could have been killed, you almost _were_ killed! What then? Who would I have had then? You were going to leave me! Who was going to care about me then, huh? Who?!” Tommy shouted all the frustration that had been building since Wilbur slammed that door shut. Wilbur just stood there, patiently waiting for the boy’s tirade to end before apologizing. “I know, I’m sorry. I know it was stupid. But hey! Look,” he gestured to the desk littered with all of their resources. “We got our shit back.” He turned to Tommy with a wide grin. 

Tommy didn’t return the smile, a grim expression still darkening his features. “And you almost _died_.” He whispered. Wilbur didn’t think he’d ever seen the rambunctious boy so scared. “And _you_ saved me.” He responded, matter-of-factly. Wilbur brought his hand up to ruffle the boy’s hair. “You did good today. Who knows, maybe I’ll even teach you how to properly shoot that thing.” He said, nudging the revolver discarded on the floor with his boot. Tommy lit up slightly at that, practically shining at the praise and the promise of future lessons. “Really?” Tommy asked, sullen mood seemingly forgotten in an instant. Wilbur chuckled at the drastic change of mood. “Really. I mean you someone made it through, what? Three guys? How the hell did you do that anyway?”

“He had help.” Wilbur turned as Ranboo emerged from the door at the end of the hallway, SMG in hand. Two bodies laid behind him, fallen around the campfire as blood pooled into the grass. “He is surprisingly good with that thing.” Tommy whispered in awe by Wilbur’s side, and he couldn’t help the snort of amusement that he let out. “Alright, that’s enough romanticizing murder for today. Tommy, help me grab our shit.” With that Wilbur turned, heading towards the desk and grabbing his weapons, stuffing the food and metal scraps into his bag. 

Tommy stayed back, tugging on Ranboo’s sleeve until the taller boy learned over so Tommy could half-whisper, half-yell something in his ear. “Seriously, can you teach me how to use that thing?”

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys i hope u enjoyed! this is longest thing i've ever written and i'm super proud of it. follow me on twitter if you'd like @ghstbr !! if you did like it please do comment below! i love hearing what u guys think <3


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